Forgive me lord for I have sinned
The walls still mock the horror
The crimson lay
Dried the voices swoon
Heylel says, ‘thither art nay sins
Sans love thy cry, san tears incendie
Is truth beheld or is voice futile
Either be I blood

Father forgive me; I have sinned
The verses make them worse
The savage knife
Scarlet stained
Yet them be so mellow
So calm, the child I murder
I sleep the fables, drowned with tears
The smoke it soothes my heed
He did say right ‘thither art nay sins’
All that’s left incendie.


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